


Scream at the Sky

by Reymonkey



Category: Dirk Gently - Douglas Adams
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reymonkey/pseuds/Reymonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk Gently ficlet. Just an expansion on a narrative comment in 'The Long Dark TeaTime of the Soul'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream at the Sky

Dirk hated doing the lady fortune-teller gig in the backs of pubs. Usually it was a last resource to make some quick money after somebody with a baseball bat came around to remind him of money he'd borrowed. He did them dressed as a woman just to preserve his dignity. As long as he'd shaved that morning, behind the thick glasses and with his head well wrapped in a scarf, he could pass for a really ugly, overweight, older woman. The advantage to passing for an ugly woman was that no one ever tried to look close enough to realize he was actually a man, and he'd only ever been recognized for himself once.*  
He didn't enjoy cross-dressing, at all, but it paled in comparison to the worst part. The worst part was that no matter how blunderingly, blatantly wrong he tried to be, his predictions were almost always in some horrible twisted way right.  
Dirk knew this, because often people came back. Sometimes they were pleased, and more often they were not, and they usually let Dirk know just how painfully accurate he'd been at a volume that attracted attention. Sometimes it involved throwing a chair or two. Dirk could hold his own if he had to, but he preferred to avoid bar room fights. Rather than fight back in these situations, he invariably fled. Generally speaking, he couldn't blame whoever came after him for it, because he would have done the same if he were in their shoes.  
It left him angry, though, in his own way. It all would have been so much easier if he could have just been wrong, even fifty percent of the time. The nights when it really got to him, those were the nights when he hauled himself up to the roof of his house, to rant at the universe at large. Sometimes the universe had a perverse sense of humor, and Dirk wanted to personally throttle it and lean on its windpipe until it turned bluer than the unanswering sky above him.

*Since it had been someone he owed money too, but he'd just made some accurate predictions involving the man's extra-marital affair, the moment of recognition had been a very awkward one. They decided to call it even and part ways quickly.


End file.
